


Of Respect and Joy

by aspermoth



Category: NCIS
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Office Party, Romance, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspermoth/pseuds/aspermoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Abby persuades the NCIS team to come for the Christmas meal, Gibbs does not and Ziva is intrigued.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Respect and Joy

It was Abby's idea, but then, of course it was. Only Abby ever thought of things like "The NCIS Christmas Eve Dinner" (hastily renamed "The NCIS Holiday Dinner" after McGee discreetly reminded Abby that Ziva was Jewish, but the sentiment was the same either way). December time is family time, she'd said, and they were a family. It was only right that they celebrate that somehow.

Ziva hadn't planned to go at first. The custom for loud family dinners where everybody ate too much, talked too loudly and bickered incessantly wasn't one that she particularly cared for: she was more a quiet reflection type of person. But Abby then Abby had turned those infernal pleading eyes on her and asked in a quiet, pleading tone:

"You are coming, aren't you, Ziva?"

It had been an... awkward moment. There was a brief pause when Ziva contemplated making an excuse – it couldn't be too hard to think of a plausible one – but she just couldn't find it in her heart to do that to Abby.

"Of course."

And she had to admit, it had already been worth the trouble in exchange for the bizarre pleasure of observing her fellow team members become emotionally involved with The Dinner to an almost unhealthy degree. From Abby chattering about her favourite bat-shaped gingerbread cookies to DiNozzo and McGee enthusiastically squabbling over the correct way to make paper-chains to Ducky keeping the Christmas goose in a freezer in the morgue, every moment of it was strangely compelling. And when the Big Day finally arrived, Abby could not have looked more happy if all of her birthdays had come at once.

Except that there was one thing that put a damper on her happiness, that dulled the twinkle Ziva could see in her eyes: Gibbs wasn't there.

That interested Ziva. It interested her a lot. Gibbs was the spine of the team, their core, was he not? So why would he not come to a celebration of that? She couldn't stop thinking about it. Not even when everybody else was distracted by DiNozzo and McGee throwing brussels sprouts at each other across the table.

She hadn't planned to go at first. After all, she herself preferred a quiet time of reflection rather than a raucous party – why should Gibbs not do the same? But there was something about the mental picture of him alone in his basement with his boat when they were all eating, drinking and being merry that wouldn't leave her be. If there was anyone who didn't deserve to be all alone at a time of family, it was Gibbs.

So Ziva did not drive home that night. She drove to Gibbs' house instead, with one brief detour on the way to purchase a friendly seasonal offering.

There were no lights twinkling on Gibbs' porch, she noted as she walked up to the door, a bottle of bourbon held in one hand. No lights, no gaudy decorations, no acknowledgement of the season at all. But that didn't surprise Ziva all that much. Gibbs was a man of substance, not show. She knocked. And after a long, long silence, Gibbs answered.

Ziva didn't know what to say, at first. She smiled, awkwardly, unsure of herself – a feeling that she did not experience often – and held out the bottle.

"Merry Christmas."

A pause. Then Gibbs smiled back and took it, his fingers accidentally brushing hers. They were warm.

"Come on in," he said.

Ziva hadn't planned to stay, at first. She'd planned to arrive, give her gift and leave, a token gesture to say – in some small fashion – that somebody was thinking about him during this season of goodwill toward men. And yet she did. Sitting in the basement with Gibbs while he worked, the smell of sawdust thick in the air and the taste of bourbon in her mouth, she lost all track of the time in a haze of goodwill and friendly banter.

And the next morning, when she woke up next to Gibbs in his bed, was one of the best she'd ever had.


End file.
